Corpse Bride: Shadow of the Valley of Death
by Sonosublime
Summary: Set after the events of the movie. "It is a tale not lightly spoken of. A valley of insurmountable horror and hardship. But for denizens of the Land of the Dead, it offers one last chance for life." Victor/Emily or Victor/Victoria?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

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><p>It was a rare event for the moon to pierce the veil of dark clouds that hung in the sky over the Land of the Dead. However, it was happening now, and a tall and skinny man, with a rumpled suit and slicked-back dark hair, looked up at it with a growing feeling of dread.<p>

Victor Van Dort gazed around one last time, taking in the sights around him. He always knew that he would one day return to the Land of the Dead, but not quite like this. And now, he was about to set out on what he knew would be the most perilous journey of his… life.

The events of the previous days… or weeks… all seemed like a distant dream, and he could scarcely believe they had actually happened.

_But they had,_ he reminded himself. _And now, here I am._

A sharp, high-pitched barking at his feet caught his attention, and he looked down to see the familiar skeleton of a small dog with a red collar nipping at his heels. He smiled, somewhat comforted by the sight of his childhood and long-dead dog.

"Scraps, who's my good boy?"

The skeletal dog yipped and ran circles around him, its bony tail wagging furiously.

"Now, now, Scraps. You have to stay here. It's much too dangerous for you to come with me," Victor insisted.

He received a growl in response, and again when he repeated himself. Finally, pursing his lips, he gave a short nod, to which Scraps barked ecstatically. The young man smiled, touched by the dog's loyalty, even after it had been dead all of these years.

"Ah, there you are, Victor!"

He turned toward the voice to see a tall skeleton; wearing a red and white dragoon's uniform, spiked cap and monocle (even though he no longer had eyeballs); coming toward him. Despite the large hole in the chest of the former cavalry soldier, where a cannonball had obviously sent him on a one-way trip to the Land of the Dead, he still moved with the spryness and agility of a young man.

"General Wellington," Victor greeted. "Are you sure that you and General Bonesapart still wish to accompany us? It will be a perilous journey."

The General's long moustache twitched as he drew his curved sabre and held it aloft. "As we all declared several years ago, we will defend our one and only Emily. You have my sword, and my ever-lasting allegiance, to see this undertaking through to the bitter end."

Victor smiled in gratitude. "Huzzah, General," he offered weakly.

"Huzzah!" Wellington roared in reply.

At that moment, they heard footsteps approaching, and turned to see two figures coming toward them. One of them, an almost comically-short skeleton with mismatched eyes, wore a large Napoleonic hat. His blue coat and buttons gleamed in the moonlight. Perhaps his most noteworthy feature, however, was a large cutlass sticking through his chest, which he had obviously never bothered to remove since Victor had last visited this place.

Beside the short skeleton was a pale and beautiful figure, gliding gracefully down the street. Her long blue hair cascaded down the sides and back of her head, and over the top of the white and tattered wedding dress that she had been wearing faithfully ever since she had first arrived in the Land of the Dead. Her piercing eyes were determined.

The corpse bride…

Victor inadvertently felt his breath catch, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"General Bonesapart. And Emily, my dear," General Wellington spoke in a deep tone. "I trust you are both ready to depart?"

The corpse woman opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when her right eye came out of her head with a loud _POP_. A large and ugly green maggot poked its head out of the empty eye-socket with a cheeky grin.

"We're all set to go!" he said with much gusto.

"And what makes you think that _you're_ coming?" the petite woman snapped, bending down to pick her eyeball up off the ground.

"Oh, come on, you all need me!" the maggot shot back. "Everyone knows that I'm the brains of the operation!"

"Just because you've been sitting in my skull, that doesn't make you my brain! I have a perfectly-functioning one, thank you very much!"

The maggot opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance as Emily shoved her eyeball back into its socket, forcing him back into the recesses of her skull. The short, stocky skeleton laughed in a high-pitched voice.

"I don't think you're going to be able to stop him from coming."

"Oh, shush, Bonesapart," she scolded. She turned to Victor and smiled. "Your wife is the luckiest woman in the world. If only she knew what you are about to do for her…"

He blushed slightly, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He gazed around at her and the two skeletal generals. "Well… I am equally lucky to have all of you with me."

The stocky General Bonesapart withdrew the sword from his impaled body and held it across his chest in salute.

"We are all with you to the end, Victor," the tall General Wellington replied. "However, I must ask you once more – are you absolutely certain you are willing to go through with this?"

The young man spared a thought for his wife, scared and alone. "I must. For Victoria."

"Then we make haste!" Wellington cried, pointing his sabre ahead. "Forward! To the Valley of Death!"

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Recently, I discovered a little gem of a movie called _Corpse Bride_. Normally, I'm not a sucker for love stories, but the music and story moved me. The ending was very bittersweet.

Thank you very much for reading so far, and I promise that the future chapters will provide some context for what was happening in the Prologue.

Also, reviews are greatly appreciated. I am always open to constructive criticism. Thanks for reading.


	2. ACT I: Chapter 1: Family Matters

**ACT I**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Family Matters<strong>

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><p>TWO MONTHS EARLIER…<p>

The late Victorian Era was a time of great change throughout all of Europe. This was also true for two newlyweds who, against all odds, had been married at the chapel just outside their small town. The Everglot family had only permitted the wedding to proceed as they were deeply in debt, and desperate to marry off their daughter to the son of wealthy William and Nell Van Dort, nouveau riche fish merchants.

Despite their critical financial situation, Lord Finis and Madame Maudeline Everglot held reservations about their daughter's husband-to-be. Especially after the rumours that the misled young man had accidentally proposed to a "corpse bride" while practicing his wedding vows in the forest outside the town. The events that followed still seemed surreal, particularly when "the dead walked the earth" – when ghouls and skeletons appeared all over town. However, instead of wreaking havoc, the dead had joyously reunited with their still-living loved ones for a bizarre night.

To this day, no one knew why the dead had risen that evening. The esteemed Pastor Gallswells claimed it was a sign of a coming apocalypse, and urged everyone to atone for their sins. Attendance at church had doubled since the incident.

However, despite everything that had happened that night, the Van Dorts and the Everglots had made their way to the chapel to find their respective son and daughter in each other's arms, looking on as hundreds of butterflies scattered away into the night. The two professed their love for each other, before numerous witnesses.

And so, against all odds, Victor Van Dort and Victoria Everglot became man and wife. Victor's parents enjoyed their raised social status, and Victoria's parents were spared from being cast penniless into the streets.

The two young lovers enjoyed a happy year of marriage together. Victor taught Victoria to play the piano, and she shared her love of poetry with him. They lived in a small house on the edge of town that was decidedly less lavish than either of their parents' homes, not that either of them minded.

However, like the nature of the Victorian Era, their lives were about to undergo extreme change. It began when they extended an invitation to both of their parents to attend their home for dinner.

Victoria was presently pacing up and down in the dining room, wringing her hands nervously. "Oh dear… What if my parents do not take the news well?"

"It will be okay, Victoria. I promise."

The petite young woman brushed a stray lock of pale brown hair behind her ear and looked across the room at her husband, who was setting out the dining table. He looked up and cast her a shy smile. Behind his brave façade, however, she could tell that he was just as nervous as her.

"But this is big news," she said. "_Huge_ news!"

"And we should be excited to tell it," Victor insisted.

He crossed the room and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, causing her to stop pacing and smile up at him. She reached out and straightened up his tie, while he brushed a hand against her hair.

"You always have it done up in a bun," he commented softly. "Perhaps… you should try letting it down sometime…?" He immediately felt extreme guilt for suggesting it. It was just how… _she_ had always had her hair…

"Victor?" Victoria said, seeing his expression. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, oh yes," he stammered. "Just… thinking about the past, that's all."

"Well, perhaps we should start looking to the future?" she said softly. "Everything is about to change."

He gave a nervous chuckle to that as he went to the kitchen to remove a roasted chicken from the oven.

"That gas oven is a God-send," Victoria said lightly. "It even has temperature control!"

Her husband chuckled – the wonders of the era never ceased to amaze them. A loud knock on the front door caused him to jump with a startled yelp, just about dropping the entire chicken on the floor. "Would you get that, dear?"

He finished setting the table up for dinner just as all four parents bustled into the room. Nell Van Dort was fanning her plump face, chatting loudly as usual to no one in particular and clinging to her wiry husband's arm. William Van Dort lowered his tiny spectacles and winked at Victor.

"Good evening son."

"Father, Mother," he acknowledged. He gave a small and courteous bow to the other guests – an extremely short and rotund man with a perpetual grimace etched on his face, and a tall and ghoulish woman with an even ghastlier hairdo. "Lord and L-Lady Everglot," he managed to stammer out.

The hateful aristocrats responded with the slightest of nods.

His mother immediately attacked him, as she did every time she visited. "Victor! What are you doing still setting the table yourself? Why have you not yet hired servants?"

"Victoria and I do not f-feel the need to hire help w-with only the two of us living here – "

"That's not the point!" the plump woman pouted. "I deserve better than to be served by my own family like a commoner!"

"You may do as you wish in your own house Mother, but this is the home of Victoria and I," he replied, with all the courage he could muster.

A surprised silence fell over the room at his retaliation – it was hardly considered proper behaviour for one to answer back to their parents. Victor himself was a little shocked – but also pleased with himself. It felt exhilarating to speak his mind.

"…Would anyone care for some tea?" Victoria spoke up, breaking the silence and ushering their guests into the small and cramped sitting room.

* * *

><p>The first part of the visit passed without major incident. Victor chatted amiably with his father about the fishing business, while his mother threw only minor insults his way, pertaining to the horrible colour of the drapes, the outdated décor of the house, and so on. He sighed and nodded, having heard it all before.<p>

Victoria's relationship with her parents had improved slightly, now that she was no longer living in the same house as them. Amidst the din of conversation, Victor could have sworn that he saw Maudeline crack a smile.

When they adjourned to the dining room for dinner, the two newlyweds took their places at their respective heads of the table and shot each other nervous looks. It was time.

"Mother, Father," Victoria began, "Mr and Mrs Van Dort. Victor and I have some… wonderful news to share with you." When four sets of eyes turned to her, she lost her nerve and looked to him for help.

"Er, well, yes, quite," he spluttered, tugging at his collar nervously under four critical stares. "You see… Victoria and I, we're very, _extremely_, to tell you – sorry, happy, I m-meant – that we are expecting a child… and, w-well, that's it, really."

"What Victor _meant_ to say," she cut in, shooting him a look, "is that we are both _very_ happy to tell you that we are expecting a child." She finished her news with happiness and pride, but wilted in the overpowering silence that followed. "…_Aren't_ we, darling?"

"Oh, y-yes, quite," he said.

"Well, that's _fantastic!_" Nell exclaimed. "It's about time, too! Gosh, you two have been married for, what, two years now?"

"One actually, Mother."

"Oh, who cares – I'm going to be a grandmother!"

"Congratulations to you both," William chimed in, a smile breaking out beneath his curled and bushy moustache. Clearly the prospect of becoming a grandfather appealed to him highly.

The bubbly reception of the news by Victor's parents was in stark contrast to that of the Everglot in-laws. Finis continued to eat his dinner indifferently, while Maudeline shot her daughter a sharp look.

"Well, don't just sit there!" she barked. "How far along are you?"

"A-About two months," Victoria replied, looking rather taken aback.

"And it took you this long to inform us?"

"With all due respect, milady," Victor cut in, "we only just learned of this news yesterday." His mother-in-law redirected her steely gaze at him, and he inadvertently shrank back in his seat. After all, it was highly improper to interrupt a conversation. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, the tall and intimidating woman still scared him.

"Regardless, you should have notified us immediately," she sniffed haughtily. She turned back to Victoria. "Will you require hired help around the house? Considering you will soon be in no condition to do _anything_."

"N-No, we are quite alright at the moment, thank you for asking," the younger woman replied, shooting Victor a surprised look. They were both thinking the same thing – although the tone of Maudeline's voice heavily implied that the answer to her question should be 'No', the point was that she had actually shown _concern_.

"Congratulate them, Finis," she ordered her husband.

The rotund man cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly not at ease with the discussion. "Yes… Yes, congratulations, I suppose."

"Well, it's a relief to know that I will be getting some heirs out of this whole affair," Nell said. "Honestly, Victor, I was beginning to wonder if something was broken with you!"

"Mother!" he exclaimed, aghast. Victoria and Maudeline gaped, William cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Finis continued to eat indifferently.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in the darkening twilight, the Town Crier made his way to the town square for an emergency announcement. The large, bulbous man began to pace the cobblestoned streets, ringing his handbell in a shrill monotone. Slivers of light appeared in a number of windows as drapes were parted for people to peer through.<p>

"Hear ye, hear ye!" the bellman bellowed. "The Black Death re-emerges! Bubonic outbreaks reported in nearby villages! The Black Death re-emerges! Make your peace with this mortal coil, and be all your sins remember'd!"


	3. Chapter 2: A Promise by Moonlight

**Chapter 2: A Promise by Moonlight**

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><p>"Well, I think that went… well," Victor said as he and Victoria cleared up after their parents had left.<p>

"As well as expected… and more," she agreed, thinking of semi-concern her mother had actually shown for her.

He took her into his arms and held her for a moment, doing nothing except listening for her heartbeat. They stood this way in silence for some time, enjoying the embrace. The moonlight shining in through the kitchen window cast a pale aura over the darker parts of the room.

"What are you thinking of?" Victoria asked presently.

"Just how lucky I am to have you," her husband replied. "And how lucky our child will be to have you as a mother."

"And you as a father."

She turned and their lips met in a long and passionate kiss. Victor had been terrified when he first found out that Victoria was pregnant. However, he was becoming more and more excited with the idea of becoming a father – of caring for and raising a person who carried a piece of him inside. It was a feeling like no other.

"I was just thinking…" he began, pausing awkwardly for a moment.

"Yes?"

"Well… if we have a daughter… I, well…"

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, darling," Victoria assured him.

"Well, I would like it… if we named her Emily. Or at least her middle name."

Victoria felt a twinge of pain stab through her abdomen and winced. It was not physical pain, rather than a reminder of the dead woman to whom Victor had very nearly married instead of her. She would often find him staring off somewhere in the distance, no doubt thinking of the other entrancing and charismatic woman who was so beautiful, even in death. However, she knew that Victor would not be able to just forget about the experience he had with Emily. Nor should he – she obviously left a big imprint on his life.

"Are you okay, Victoria?" his voice broke into her reverie. "I-I'm sorry if I have upset you, it was terribly insensitive of me to – "

"Oh, no," she replied, collecting herself. "I think that it's a wonderful idea." She pulled out of his embrace and made her way toward the front door.

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

"I just need to go for a walk and clear my head." She shot him a reassuring smile. "Do not worry, I am fine. I just need some fresh air."

"Would you like some company?"

"No, thank you," she replied. "I just need some time alone to gather my thoughts. I will be back soon."

The door shut behind her, and Victor sat down in his armchair with a sigh. He knew exactly where Victoria was headed – it was a place he often visited by himself as well.

* * *

><p>Victoria walked briskly through the night. The lamps in the town had been lit, giving off a soft and almost eerie aura. Most of the houses were dark, their tenants having already turned in for the night. And yet here she was, a pregnant woman, making her way across the stone bridge over the small river and toward the woods outside the town. But she did not have far to travel.<p>

She made her way through the dark trees, and soon between scattered and cracked tombstones dotting the landscape. The dark trees hung overhead, the branches serving as perches for crows, several of which cawed ominously.

Just beyond the decrepit old graveyard, she came to her destination: a lonely gravesite below a twisted old oak tree. This lonely little corner had been the resting place of Emily. The poor and kind-hearted young woman who had waited here to elope with her so-called lover, only to be murdered, have her dowry and family jewels stolen, and left abandoned and forgotten, lying under the tree. It was not until Victor had accidentally proposed to her that she had thought her true love had come to set her free.

Victoria sank to her knees in front of the grave with a hand over her heart, overcome with sorrow for the poor corpse bride. "You deserved so much better than this," she whispered.

The first few times that Victoria and Victor had visited the site together, weeds and bushes had overgrown the desolate area. However, Victor had suggested that they clear out the weeds and turn the grave into a proper burial site, to which she wholeheartedly agreed. And so they did, planting wildflowers all over the grave and stones all around it.

Victoria thought back to that night at the chapel, when Victor had almost given up his own life in order to be with Emily. She truly hoped that, when the dead girl had released him from his promise and then transformed into hundreds of butterflies, she had found her eternal rest.

However, dark thoughts in her mind constantly reminded her that although Victor loved her, there would always be a corner of his heart that she could never claim. It belonged to Emily, the selfless girl who had sacrificed her dreams and given up her claim on Victor to allow him to marry Victoria.

She shook away these counterproductive notions and gazed up at the moon, whose pale light filtered down through the trees. The forest truly was a wondrous, albeit creepy, place to come at night.

She contemplated the grave before her, dedicated to the victim of a murder most foul. The culprit – a despicable man with interests concerned only with money – had robbed Emily of her life, and had almost done the same to Victoria. But perhaps worst of all, he had robbed the corpse bride of the opportunity to have children – to have a family.

"I promise I will live your dreams for you, I will live your hopes for you," she said softly, patting her midsection affectionately. "I will have the children you will never have. May you rest in peace, and take comfort in the fact that you will never be forgotten."

She thought of what Victor had told her about the "Land of the Dead", when he recounted his story of being spirited away to the surprisingly festive underworld. However, it appeared that many of the people there were in a state of 'limbo', with unfinished business that tied them to the place. Perhaps when Emily had set Victor free of his promise to marry her, her spirit had finally moved on.

"Wherever you are, I hope you are happy." Victoria stood to leave but, as an afterthought, turned back once more. "I really think you and I could have been such great friends…"


	4. Chapter 3: Forever and a Day

**Chapter 3: Forever and a Day**

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><p>It had been two days since Victor and Victoria had announced her pregnancy to their parents. And also two days since the town had been put on high alert, following the Town Crier's ominous announcement. Precautions had been put into place but, despite everyone's best efforts, cases of bubonic disease were beginning to spring up all over town.<p>

Victoria was scared. Scared for her life, for the life of her family, for the life of Victor, for the life of their unborn child…

She suggested fleeing the town, but had grimly been informed that the Black Death was re-occurring in many of the surrounding villages. Their safest bet was to remain where they were. Fortunately, the reported incidents were isolated. Perhaps the town would be spared from an epidemic.

She found herself pacing nervously through the house, wondering what on earth she could do to calm herself. All of this stress could not be good for the baby…

The young woman inadvertently found herself drawn to the sound of music drifting from the drawing room. She made her way there to see Victor sitting at the piano, playing a soothing and familiar tune. It was the same tune she heard the first time she had met him – and the first time she had been witness to someone playing the piano so beautifully – when he and his family had come to visit the Everglot mansion. Victoria chuckled as she recalled the events of the disastrous wedding rehearsal that followed, including her future husband lighting her mother's dress on fire.

Victor looked up to see her standing there and gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned. He finished the piece and then stood to face her. "I thought that song might help to calm you."

"Thank you, it certainly does help," she replied. "I remember you were playing that very song the first time I saw you. I believe it was also the time that I stopped worrying about our impending wedding, and started to look forward to it. Because I was already falling deeply in love with you."

"And I you," he said softly. "From the moment you gave me that flower from the vase, I let my fears of marriage slip away, to be replaced with happiness at meeting you."

"Oh Victor, that's beautiful."

"I used the flower as my inspiration, you know," he declared proudly. "To remember my vows properly, I mean."

Victoria pressed a hand to her mouth and chuckled daintily. "Oh yes, I feel as though you needed all the 'inspiration' you could get. Please forgive me, but some of the vows you came up with at our wedding rehearsal were terrible."

He gave a short laugh. "I'm afraid I agree." He struck a mock pose that one would take at the altar. "With this hand, I will lift your cup with a candle. Your wine… will end up all over Pastor Gallswell's robe."

"I do believe he wished to bludgeon you to death with his staff after that happened," she replied, obviously trying to suppress her laughter.

"And let's not forget the best ones," he continued. "With this hand… I will lift your mother's skirt. With this candle… I will set your mother on fire."

She pressed the fingers of a hand to her mouth again and took several deep breaths through her nose.

"Oh, do go on, Victoria," Victor said, his eyes dancing with humour. "Laughter is good for the baby."

At this advice, she burst into a cacophony of odd squeaking noises, all the while with a hand clapped to her mouth – this 'ladylike' laughter obviously being a product of her strict upbringing.

Presently she removed her hand and took a deep breath. "I beg your pardon. Please do not take offence – that was terribly rude of me." Her eyes were still swimming with amusement, however.

"None taken."

They sat down on the piano bench together. Victoria fondly remembered her first piano lesson, which took place soon after they had moved into their new home. Though she was hesitant and clumsy, Victor had coached her with patience, his passion for music manifesting itself more and more as they played. Eventually, they played their first duet together – a short and rather easy piece, but Victoria still thought it sounded wonderful.

"Shall we play our duet?" she suggested lightly.

"I was just about to begin my part."

With that, their fingers twirled slowly over the piano keys, the room softly filling with the sound of haunting music. Several times, the ambience created was shattered when Victoria inadvertently hit an incorrect note, to which she would grimace. However, Victor would smile reassuringly, prompting her to continue with her part. The piece soon ended, and Victoria sat with her eyes closed for several moments.

"It sounds just as beautiful as when we first played it," she said finally. She looked over at her husband to see him with an odd expression on his face. "Is everything alright?"

_"Pardon my enthusiasm…"_

_ "I like your enthusiasm…"_

"Victor? Are you alright?" Victoria's voice broke him out of his reverie of memories.

"I b-beg your pardon, how r-rude of me…" he stammered. "I was just thinking of… another piano duet I played… n-not so long ago, actually…"

"I would have loved to hear it," she replied gently. "You always play beautifully." However, she noticed that her efforts to put him at ease had not worked. "What's on your mind?"

"I, well," he said, wringing his tie out of nervous habit. "I wanted to apologise for what I said the other night. About naming our d-daughter, if the baby is indeed a g-girl of course! About naming our daughter E… E…"

"Emily," she finished for him.

"Yes… Emily." His eyes darted back and forth anxiously. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry, Victoria. It was not right for me to upset you like that. Please forgive me."

"You have nothing to apologise for, Victor. I know that she was very important to you… _Is_ very important to you," she amended, with an understanding look in her eyes.

"W-Well, you are… right," he spluttered, "but that still gave me no right to – "

"Shhhh," she whispered, placing her forefinger on his lips. Hers followed immediately thereafter in a tender kiss. When they broke apart, the tension in the conversation seemed to have dissipated. "As I told you the night you suggested it, I think it is a wonderful idea."

"You do?" Victor asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Of course."

"I beg your pardon, but… well… why?"

Victoria sighed, her thoughts circling back to that fateful night in the chapel, as they often did. "She did a remarkable thing, releasing you from your vows like that, knowing that she was giving up her chance to be married. Her memory deserves better than for us to cast it aside." She turned back to Victor. "The night you suggested it, do you know where I went?"

"To visit her grave?"

She nodded in response. "I made her a promise that she would never be forgotten. You kept your promise to her, and I intend to keep mine as well."

"Thank you… for understanding."

They smiled warmly at each other. Despite the troubles plaguing the country, they felt that, as long as they had each other, everything would be okay.

"I love you," Victor said softly. He gazed down at his wife's midsection and sighed contentedly. "I love you both."


	5. Chapter 4: The Killing Frost

**Chapter 4: The Killing Frost**

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><p>The ominous ringing of the church bells echoed over the mist-laden hills as the dreary morning light peeked over the horizon, filtering through the clouds where it could. The small town had never been a lively place, but had recently fallen into an even deeper shade of grey. Its cobblestoned streets were virtually empty – most of the people were indoors, caring for friends and family.<p>

The sickness had fallen upon the town without discrimination, mowing down young and old alike. Though the scene of despair could hardly stand up to when the Black Death had been at the height of its course, things were still bad enough.

The church bells continued to ring, announcing that morning service was about to begin. The ever-persistent Pastor Gallswells took his place at the altar, despite the fact that there were only two people present.

_What an outrage,_ he thought bitterly. _At home caring for their loved ones, when they should be here to show their faith – now more than ever! The Lord is testing us!_

The thundering of the bells overhead gradually faded into silence. The church service had taken on a grim undertone – in light of recent events – with the Pastor talking of the end of the world. Perhaps they were being punished for their brief glimpse at what lay beyond the veil, when the dead had risen from the underworld the previous year. It was unnatural.

"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are already among us, whether we like it or not," Gallswells thrummed on in his deep tone. "Famine and War – I need not make light of the atrocities that have occurred throughout the world in our time." He lifted his long chin to look pointedly around the dark and nearly-empty pews. "Pestilence and Death – recent events serve as testament enough to them. The Four Horsemen are indeed among us. Our only hope is to look to our Lord, the Shepherd, and his everlasting light. Make your peace with this mortal coil, and be all your sins remember'd."

When the morning service finally concluded, only one of the two townspeople who had shown up remained in his seat, his head bowed forward in silent prayer, his eyes moist. _My thoughts and prayers go with you, Mother. I hope you have found peace on the other side…_

"Master Van Dort," a deep voice rang overhead, startling him. He looked up to see a tall and intimidating figure looming over him.

"Pastor G-Gallswells," Victor answered.

"I must say, I am surprised to find you here this morning."

"Oh, really? For what reason?"

"Why are you here?" the old man thundered abruptly.

"…I-I am here in prayer for my m-mother who was taken by the Black Death, God rest her soul," Victor said, cowed. However, his next thought reinforced his will. "And to pray to the Lord for the continued safety and good health of my father, wife and unborn child."

Pastor Gallswells continued to stand over the younger man, staring at him as though he was trying to figure out a puzzle. The silence between them was unbroken for a full minute, their chilled breaths coming out in wisps of white mist.

"I have a confession to make," he said finally, causing Victor to look up in surprise.

"A c-confession?"

"I did not wish to marry you and Miss Everglot in this chapel," the Pastor said bluntly. "Nor did I wish to allow you to set foot in here ever again – not after the unholy alliance that nearly took place under this very roof!"

"B-But – "

Victor's protest was cut off with a wave of Gallswell's hand. "Silence!" His thunderous voice echoed throughout the chapel. After a tense moment, he continued, "Despite my reservations for you and your choices in the past, Master Van Dort, you have proven yourself to be a husband of substance, with faith unwavering."

"I… er, well, thank you…" the young man uttered, at a loss of what else to say.

"Now, I believe you should be getting home, to take care of your wife. She has new life to bring into this world. The Lord knows; we need a ray of hope after what has happened here." The elderly man turned and vanished into the depths of the church without another word.

* * *

><p>Victor gazed glumly out the window as it rolled into town toward his parents' house, where he and Victoria had offered to stay to look after his father. The man in question, while grateful, often wept openly in his grieving for his wife. He insisted that Victor take the horse-drawn carriage whenever he needed to go anywhere, no matter how short the distance, to minimise his exposure to the outside world.<p>

When the carriage pulled up in front of the Van Dort residence, Victor gathered his coat and stepped outside. He gazed around the practically-empty empty town square, grimacing at the bleak sight. Suddenly, a flash of blue caught his eye, and he looked to see a beautiful and familiar butterfly fluttering its way through the sky. Despite what was happening, he felt hopeful that things would turn out alright, and smiled in spite of himself.

"Victor, is that you?" he heard Victoria's voice calling to him from the kitchen when he opened the front door.

"No, it's just a bandit come to loot the house," he called back. "Don't mind me." He had never been one to crack a joke, but felt as though the place needed _some_ cheer, after everything that had happened lately.

The young man hung his coat up on the rack by the front door and gathered the meagre supply of groceries he had scrounged from the market on his way home. Like the rest of the town, the stalls had been virtually deserted, and pickings were slim. However, Victor was particularly excited with the tall clear bottle of Scotch Single Malt whiskey he had managed to pick up there. He knew his father could use a stiff drink, and whiskey was his favourite. Personally, Victor could not understand why. The stuff tasted ghastly –

_CRASH!_

His train of thought was utterly shattered, figuratively and literally, when a vase came crashing down on his head, sending him sprawling onto his face in the hallway. He was vaguely aware of someone shouting over his head…

"…What on _earth_ did you do that for…?"

"Sorry, milady Victoria… Honest mistake…"

Victor felt two pairs of hands helping him to his feet, and looked up to see his wife's anxious-looking face, alongside the pudgy face of the bumbling and rather incompetent butler of the Van Dort household.

"Terribly sorry, Mr Van Dort," the man huffed apologetically. "I just thought I heard a bandit announcing his intention to rob the house. I saw a shadow in the doorway and, well…" He glanced down at the shattered shell of the vase still in his hand and quickly hid it behind his back.

"It was just a joke…" Victor groaned.

"Oh my, are you alright?" Victoria asked worriedly. She took his hand and led him to the dining room, sitting him down in the nearest chair.

"Yes, I'm fine…" he replied, still slightly dazed. "Just a bit dizzy, that's all."

Despite his reassurance, his wife still looked concerned. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a short barking laugh from the butler.

"Your head's harder than it looks, Mr Van Dort!"

Victoria shot him a look of pure poison. "Shouldn't you be cleaning up the mess you made in the hallway, and all over my husband's head?"

The man shrank under her glare, and left immediately.

Victor chuckled, looking up at her affectionately. "If there is anything you take from your mother, it would have to be your ability to inspire absolute terror in full-grown men."

Victoria's look of worry softened as she smiled at him. The sound of a broom sweeping up broken shards of vase in the hallway abruptly sent her into a fit of squeaking noises as she vainly covered her mouth with a hand.

Presently, she took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Victor. Once again, that was terribly rude of me."

Before he could answer, he heard footsteps and looked to see his father standing in the doorway, holding the bottle of whiskey. The elderly man glanced between the bottle, Victor, and the shattered vase in the hallway, before shrugging and coming to sit down at the table.

"Should I ask?" William inquired as he poured out three glasses.

"Probably not – "

"Victor is a professional thief now," Victoria chimed in, her eyes still swimming with amusement.

"I would hardly call him professional, if his robbery attempt was thwarted by _him_," William chuckled, jerking a thumb toward the butler in the next room. He took a drink from his glass, while his son and daughter-in-law politely declined. "Where were you this morning?"

"I went to church," Victor answered honestly.

His father's face became tight and drawn. "For her…?"

"Yes."

"I should have come too – "

Victor cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No, Father. You were having a proper sleep for the first time in days, and I did not wish to wake you." He looked up at his wife and smiled. "I also prayed for the continued safety of the three most important people in my life."

Victoria sighed. "Your mother raised a good man."

William sniffed. "Yes, she did." He glanced downward at his daughter-in-law's body and smiled for the first time in over a week. "But life passes on. And new life comes to take its place." He raised his glass and looked pointedly at them until they returned the gesture. "To the newest member of the Van Dort clan."

The three Van Dorts clinked glasses in a toast. However, as soon as he swallowed the drink, Victor was struck by an intense wave of nausea, and rushed to the bathroom. He did not know what had brought this sudden sickness on, and his mind soon lost the ability to form a coherent thought as he bent over the toilet and retched.

"Oh, God!" Victoria gasped from the doorway. "Does he have a concussion?"

William remained silent as he gazed at his son. After a full minute, when Victor finally finished throwing up, he slowly came over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me have a look at you, son."

The next few minutes passed by in a tense silence as Victor was examined for signs of anything sinister. Victoria looked on, scared out of her mind. After examining all over his son's lower body, William steeled himself and began to examine the upper body, the place where buboes could cause almost certain death.

Another minute of silence passed, right up until the elderly man's eyes widened in horror. "I'm going to call the doctor!" he bellowed, storming out of the bathroom.

Victor raised a shaking hand to his neck and nearly fainted when he felt a lump. He rushed over to the mirror, and his eyes confirmed what his hand had felt – on his neck was a small bubo, already beginning to swell in size.

* * *

><p>The next forty-eight hours passed in a swirling mass of hideous colour and pain for Victor. His vision clouded, he drifted in and out of consciousness.<p>

Victoria's eyes ran freely with tears as she sat by her husband's bedside, holding his hand. He was running an alarmingly-high fever. Never had she felt so helpless, able to do nothing but look on as the doctor fussed about. From the grave look on the man's face when he left the bedroom, things were grim.

"Isn't there anything that can be done…?" William's voice could be heard from downstairs.

"A bubo formation on the neck is very dangerous…" the doctor was saying.

Victoria could not listen anymore and burst into tears. It was her _husband_ lying there. The father of her child. But she felt even sorrier for William, who had already lost his wife to the Black Death, and could be on the verge of losing his son as well. Victoria's parents and Hildegarde had been fortunate so far (_thank God!_), but the Van Dort family was having its ranks gutted. It hardly seemed fair.

She looked up when she felt a hand on her shoulder and saw William standing next to her, his face a mirror of her own sadness. Without a word, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, and he returned the gesture.

"Victoria, you have only been a part of my family for a year, but I already see you as my own daughter," he said softly.

* * *

><p>The two gathered around Victor, doing what they could to make him comfortable, and praying to God for his fever to break. Victoria squeezed his hand tightly, and almost jumped when she felt a reassuring squeeze back. She looked up to see his eyes open – just barely – to look into her own.<p>

"Oh, Victor," she gasped.

At that moment, his eyes rolled up into his skull and he started to convulse violently. His wife and father gasped in horror.

Like tiny light bulbs, the vestiges of Victor's awareness blinked out of existence. As his last conscious thought drifted away, he was wracked with guilt – all he could think about was how he was abandoning his wife and child to this cold and unforgiving world.

"P-Please Victor…" Victoria sobbed. "You can't die…"

* * *

><p>When Victor awoke, he found himself lying in the bed upstairs. Victoria and his father were nowhere to be seen.<p>

"H-Hello?" he called uncertainly, climbing out of bed. "Victoria? Father?"

The house was completely silent. He glanced at the window to see that it was night-time outside. Although something about the darkness unnerved him – it was completely and utterly black, like the edge of an endless abyss. Victor turned back to leave the bedroom – and cried out in surprise and fear.

A dark figure was standing in the doorway.

Its arms hung down loosely by its sides as it appraised him. He took a careful step back, while the figure took a slow and deliberate step forward into the candle light, revealing it to be a very old man. He was dressed in a withered black coat that draped nearly all the way to the ground, and his empty eyes gazed out from beneath a mop of limp, stringy hair.

"Wh-Who are you?" Victor said, his voice shaking.

The creepy man simply pointed to the window behind, and held his posture until the younger man finally obliged to turn and look.

"Do you know why it is dark out there?" the strange old man finally rasped in a gravelly voice. "This house is your last island. Everything else is gone."

Victor felt his very soul reeling in shock at the horrifying words. They could not be true. They could not…!

"This is your last chance to come with me and move on, Victor Van Dort," the old man continued. "For your own good, it is time for you to let go."

Victor slowly looked around the room in silence, hoping to catch a glimpse of Victoria's essence… somewhere.

"They will be okay without you," the gravelly voice echoed. "It is time for you to go. What is your answer?"

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Sorry for the wait, and thank you all for your patience in waiting for this chapter. I found it quite difficult to write, as I was not sure my writing could do this scene justice. Here's to hoping that it did.

Also, credit for some of Victor's conversation goes to _Supernatural_. It's a great show, and if you don't watch it, I highly recommend that you check it out. If you do watch it, then I'm sure you know who Victor was talking to at the end there ;)

Reviews are always greatly appreciated, so please take the time to leave one.


	6. Chapter 5: The New Arrival's Resolve

**Chapter 5: The New Arrival's Resolve**

* * *

><p>A ringing bell…<p>

"New arrival!" a familiar raspy feminine voice called from somewhere overhead…

Flashing lights could be seen, even through his closed eyelids…

Jazzy music broke out somewhere nearby, almost as if it was a welcoming song…

A lively cacophony of different sounds floated around overhead, making Victor's head hurt. He moaned and tried to open his eyes and lift his head, but a wave of nausea promptly delayed that course of action.

Abruptly, several gasps went up, and the music in the background stopped. There was a short silence, and then a number of voices began to speak in hushed whispers.

"Is it _him_…?"

"No, it can't be…"

It's true! I'd recognise him anywhere!"

"Everyone, be quiet and let me get a good luck at him!" the commanding female voice bellowed.

Victor groaned and raised a hand to his head. He blinked in shock when he noticed the blue tinge of his hand. It was almost as if he was…

"Dead!" he exclaimed, sitting up with a start. He looked around to see an eerily familiar sight. He was sitting on the wooden floor a festively-lit tavern, its walls basked in the glows of lights in all different colours. Crowding around him were disturbing figures – corpses, skeletons and ghouls. _Could it be…?_

"By Jove, he's awake!" a familiar voice said. Victor looked up to see a tall skeleton with a curly moustache, dressed in a dark maroon suit, standing overhead. "Welcome back to the Land of the Dead, my boy! Looks like you're down here for the long haul this time, hey?"

"…Alfred…?" he asked timidly, recognising the late husband of Gertrude, the oldest living woman in his town.

"Indeed," the elderly skeleton replied, puffing on his pipe. "Oh, and by the by, that was simply a _smashing_ near-wedding you put together last time you were down here – "

He was cut off as he was shoved aside by a plump, pear-shaped woman with skeletal upper-arms and frizzy black hair. She wore a grimy-looking chef's outfit, complete with the tall hat, with her ribs showing through on the left side. "Victor!" she gasped in a gravelly voice. "Is it really you, dear?"

"Hello Ms Plum…" he murmured as he climbed to his feet, still not quite sure if what he was seeing was real. "And yes, it's me…"

"It's ever so good to see you again! Although I'm… sorry for the circumstances…" The tone of her voice made him begin to understand that he was not simply dreaming – that he really was dead. The woman, seeing the expression on his face, quickly changed the subject. "Oh, but it's not _Ms_ Plum anymore – it's _Mrs_ Plum now!" she announced proudly, holding up her right hand. A dull golden ring was perched on the ring finger.

"Oh, congratulations to you both… I guess," he mumbled, finding he was past questioning whether the dead could marry each other or not. "Who is the husband?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a familiar French-accented voice trilling, "Coming through! Coming throu-ugh!" A skeleton stepped forward from the crowd holding up a tray, upon which was perched a blue-tinged severed human head, with slicked-back dark hair and a miniscule twirled moustache. Victor immediately recognised him as Paul, the Head Waiter of the tavern (no doubt the Frenchman had deliberately asked for the position – the dead had a certain sense of humour). "Ah, bonjour, Victor! This is, what, your third time down here? I will be creating a feast to celebrate this momentous occasion!"

At those words, the band of skeletons up on the stage resumed their jazzy music, and the tavern erupted into a festive din. The skeleton waiter carried Paul over to the bar, where a procession of beetles carried the blue-tinged head over to where Victor was standing awkwardly.

"You remember the Ball and Socket Bar, don't you? The most happening venue in all of Limbo! Ah, but where are my manners? You must be parched!" Paul gave a short whistle, and several of his beetle servants quickly poured out a pint of beer, through an impressive feat of standing on each other's backs.

"Thank you…" Victor replied softly. "But I hardly feel as though my death is something to celebrate." Several of the bar patrons looked at him sharply, as though he had said something rather offensive. Seeing their looks, he quickly added, "Oh, please do forgive me! It's just…"

His voice trailed off as he thought of Victoria, and decided to take a large swig from his pint glass instead. The bitter taste of beer came as quite a shock to him, and he started coughing and spluttering violently. Several nearby skeletons laughed jovially and clapped him on the back, while Alfred came over and put an arm around his shoulder.

"You never were much of a drinker upstairs, were you?"

Victor coughed hoarsely and jerkily shook his head.

"Well, my boy, once you finish your drink, I will introduce you to the finest brandy the afterlife has to offer!"

"Th-Thank you," he said, smiling for the first time since his awakening. He liked Alfred – they had never known each other very well in the Land of the Living, as the older man had now been dead for over sixteen years. But he seemed like an esteemed and respectable person.

"You know, you are still quite well-known down here," Alfred continued. "You caused a respectable amount of excitement with your visit last time – what, with your marriage to our lovely corpse bride." His eye-sockets flashed as though a thought had occurred to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but –

"Oh, y-yes, well, I'm just glad that everyone had a nice time, even if I did not go through with the wedding in the end," Victor said sheepishly – he was quite embarrassed by his fame in the Land of the Dead.

"That's right!" a skeleton off to Victor's immediate left exclaimed. "Many people down here are very thankful to you for your suggestion to hold that gala upstairs. We all got to see our still-breathing friends and family, even if it was only for a night. Heck, ole' Alfred here even got to spend time with his spunky wife again!"

Victor smiled warmly, while the man in question raised a metaphorical eyebrow. "Yes, there is something I've been meaning to ask – how is Gertrude?"

"Oh, she's doing well," he replied. "Ever since she saw you that night, she seems to be much happier. I think the thought of seeing you again has made her life much brighter."

"Yes, well, I am waiting for her," the older man announced proudly. "I have been waiting for her for sixteen years, and will wait for another sixteen, should she live that long, bless her!"

_Alfred has been waiting for Gertrude for sixteen years…_ The cautious optimism Victor had felt, at seeing a few familiar and friendly faces, vanished in the face of his dark thoughts._ I will probably have to wait longer to see Victoria again…_

He suddenly felt as though the weight of a thousand skulls were crushing down on him. He had to get outside – out of the Ball and Socket Bar, out of the Land of the Dead. He pushed his way past Alfred, ignored the sound of Ms Plum (_no, it's _Mrs_ Plum now!_) calling to him from somewhere off to the side, and made for the stairs that led up to the exit. He was vaguely aware of several of the pub's patrons staring after him, and how rude he was being, but at that moment, he lacked the capacity to care.

He bolted up the stairs and through the door at the top, exiting the building into the bizarre Land of the Dead. The place still looked as festive and odd as it did the last time he had been there, with tall and slightly decrepit buildings, cast in lights of many different colours. There were a few people wandering the winding cobblestoned streets and alleys, which was the last thing Victor wanted to see. He needed to be alone.

He stumbled blindly through the streets and into the nearest alleyway, making his way past a number of narrow doors and forgotten corners. He kept walking until he came to what he felt was the loneliest and most-forgotten corner, of the loneliest and most-forgotten alleyway, and finally slumped down against the wall. He gasped for breath – quite the futile gesture – and slowly sank to the ground. Looking up at the pall of dark and ominous clouds looming over the Land of the Dead, he felt the looming despair crashing over him.

He was dead.

He and Victoria had been torn apart by the cruellest of circumstances. And until she died, he would not be able to see her. To hear her laugh, to feel her embrace, to share her kiss…

And now, she was just as alone as him, with a child on the way that she would have to raise by herself. A child who Victor would never be able to meet.

At that moment, the normally mild-mannered man lost it. He tilted his head up to the sky and screamed – a primal, raspy and choked-up sound. He screamed until he ran out of breath, inhaled deeply and screamed again. And again. Eventually, heartbroken and wretched, he curled up into a ball on his side to sink into a sorrow-filled sleep.

"Victoria…" he whispered, as his last conscious thought drifted away. "I swear on my soul that I will find my way back to you and our child."


	7. Chapter 6: A Wild Ride

**Chapter 6: A Wild Ride**

* * *

><p>When Victor awoke the next morning – or was it night? It was impossible to tell in the Land of the Dead – he found himself curled up on the ground in the same spot in the alleyway. A blanket had been draped over him, which only made him realise how cold it was.<p>

_How peculiar… The dead can still feel the cold…_

He looked around for whoever could have put the blanket on him, but there was no one in sight. It could well have just been a random passerby. Victor shivered as he rose to his feet and stretched. Sleeping in an alleyway had not done wonders for his cramps – which he found strange, seeing how he was dead and all. Should he not be past these worldly worries?

The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was wretched thoughts, as well as rudely brushing off old friends he had made the last time he had been in the Land of the Dead. He had to find his way back and apologise to them.

_Speaking of which… Where am I?_

The newly-deceased man found that he could not recognise any of the buildings. That came as no surprise, as he had been quite aimless the previous night in his moment of despair. He brushed himself off and straightened up his rumpled suit, before making off down the alleyway. It was deathly quiet – aside from the slight whisper of the wind, there was not a sound to be heard.

Victor pushed on, past dark doorways and dark windows, until he finally saw candles in a bracket illuminating a swinging wooden sign for the 'Bloody Hook'. They had been lit recently. The tavern itself was a run-down looking building – even more so than the Ball and Socket Bar. Despite the uncomfortable feeling he got to being near to such a decrepit place, he spied movement behind the dirty window. Perhaps the people there would be able to give him directions.

"Excuse me?" Victor called as he entered the dim bar, the doorbell tinkling above his head. "Can anyone help me?"

He looked around the bare-looking wood-panelled room, which held several old-looking tables and chairs. No one could be seen serving at the island bar in the middle of the room, aside from Victor's gaunt reflection in the musty mirrors behind the bar. There was not a soul in sight.

"Hello?" he called again as he slowly made his way further into the dim room. "Is anyone here?"

There was no response, aside from the whistling of the wind through the crack in the door.

_ Oh dear… I'm terribly lost…_

His train of thought was shattered, and the timid man just about jumped out of his skin at a loud _BANG_ as the front door slammed closed behind him. He whirled around to see a ghoulish man standing behind him, with slicked-back dirty blonde hair, a ratty waistcoat and slacks, and an arm that was entirely skeletal.

"What are _you_ doing in here?" the man sneered as he saw Victor's startled expression.

"I b-beg y-your pardon…?"

"He asked what you're doing in our tavern," a deep, booming voice drifted out from the bar area. Victor turned again to see a burly-looking man, dressed in similar attire and sporting a matching bowler hat, approaching quickly. His fists were clenched visibly at his sides.

"I d-d-do apologise for the intrusion," Victor stammered. "I… don't know where I am…"

"Ah, a new arrival!" the first man chirped with a toothy grin. He walked around Victor to join his beefy friend, eyeing him down thoughtfully. "You're a long way from the Ball and Socket, pal."

"Yeah," the other man said quietly, a threatening look in his eyes. "Did you get lost on your little orientation tour?"

"Er, n-no…" Victor managed weakly. He did not like the way the men were looking at him one bit, and turned to leave. "S-Sorry to have bothered you – "

He just about had a heart-attack when he felt a bony arm slink around his shoulder. "Oh, no problem at _all_, pal," the ghoulish man, his toothy smile widening. "The name's Jenkins. My friend – Hector." He twisted his head completely around to look at the other man in question, causing Victor to cringe. "Why leave so soon, anyway? We're all just gettin' to know each other."

"Yeah," Hector said darkly. "I don't really like it when people are rude like that…"

"Hold it there, boys," a quiet voice rasped from nearby. All three people looked to see a skeleton leaning against the wall. His head was bowed forward, and a bowler hat covered most of his face.

"Mind your own business, Bonejangles," Jenkins growled, twisting his head the right way around to glare at the offender.

The skeleton leaning against the wall lifted his gaze, revealing a single eyeball in his skull. Victor immediately recognised him as the lead singer of the jazz band that regularly played at the Ball and Socket Bar.

"Us three are just havin' a nice n' friendly chat," Jenkins continued. "This ain't none of your concern."

"Isn't it?" Bonejangles replied smoothly.

There was a short silence as the other two men glared at him, and Victor wandered what history existed between them.

"You can take your hands off him," the skeletal jazz singer finally said. "Victor's with me."

"Bullhorn," Hector shot back, stepping forward menacingly.

"Believe it," Bonejangles replied, seemingly unfazed. "And when I say he's with me, that means he's with the _rest_ of the band, too."

There was another silence, before the two threatening men finally shoved Victor away and stalked off deeper into the building, disappearing into a dark doorway in the far wall. The skeleton stared after them for a few moments, before finally fixing his single eyeball on Victor.

"Good t' see you again," he said, breaking out into a toothy grin and coming away from the wall to shake his hand. "What's been crackin'?"

"Uh…"

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"Who were they?" Victor finally said, motioning after the two men.

"Ah, don't mind them – they just get all antsy when new arrivals get all up-and-at-'em-y in 'their' bar," Bonejangles laughed. "There's been quite a few new ones in the last few days as well." The jazz singer cocked his head as he looked Victor over thoughtfully, causing the eyeball to roll from one eye-socket to the other. "I don't suppose you're with the flock?"

"Y-Yes… There was a bubonic plague, and – "

"Aha! Death by bubo, huh? I thought so…" the skeleton nodded at the swelling on the young man's neck. "Don't worry, it's quite small. Really, it don't cramp your style at all. I'm sure if you were still upstairs, you'd have all the lassies swoonin' over you."

"Upstairs…" the young man mumbled, as a thought suddenly occurred to him. There _was_ a way to get back to the Land of the Living after all…! "Bonejangles, can you take me to Elder Gutknecht?"

"Gutknecht?" the skeleton laughed. "Why, you only just got down here! It's time to party! There'll be plenty of time for you to go bore yourself with that old geezer later."

"It's quite important," he insisted, his hope steadily rising. "Please."

Bonejangles' single eye narrowed as he regarded his compatriot's expression. "Oh, alright then. Come on, let's blow this joint."

Victor was led out of the dingy little tavern – something he was extremely glad of – and over to a single-horse-drawn carriage, with rotting wood, and holes in several places. He grimaced when the skeletal horse looked over and transfixed him with its empty gaze.

"Come on, we don't have all night!" the jovial skeleton called up from his seat at the front of the carriage as he took the reins. "Well, technically we do, but still…"

The young man glanced inside the carriage at the ravaged and undoubtedly maggot-eaten seats, and chose to climb up onto the front bench with Bonejangles instead.

"Well, well, Mr Van Dort comes out of his shell!" the corpse laughed as he whipped the reins, prompting the horse to start galloping.

Despite the fact that he was dead, Victor still found himself fearing for his life as the carriage rocketed through the narrow cobblestoned alleyways, coming dangerously close to the sides of buildings. However, the skeletal jazz singer apparently had some skill in handling horses, and Victor slowly allowed himself to relax.

He took in the sights as the carriage flew through the murky town. The stone buildings towered over them in a claustrophobic manner, and he looked to the sky for comfort. There was a break in the clouds, allowing him to see through to the twinkling stars. It always seemed to be night-time in the Land of the Dead.

"Thanks again – for everything," he said quietly.

"No problem," Bonejangles replied with a chuckle, turning a corner so sharply that the carriage rocked up onto two wheels. Clearly he was having the time of his life – or death.

Victor assumed that most of the skeleton's fun was coming from the look of sheer terror on his face. "You don't suppose you could… maybe slow down a bit?"

"What? Where's the fun in that?"

At that moment, they sped through an alleyway lined on both sides by open wooden coffins standing on their ends. There was a terrible _CRASH_ as one of the carriage's wheels collided with the nearest coffin, sending it toppling over. All the others crashed down with it in a domino-effect.

_Oh… dear…_ Victor thought to himself as he looked around at coffins falling down all around them. He was aware of someone shouting and looked to see a figure standing to the side, shaking a fist at them angrily. "Sorry!" he called out.

"We'll fix it up later!" Bonejangles shouted back, just before the carriage shot out of sight.

* * *

><p>After what felt like an eternity of clinging for dear life to the bench, Victor finally saw an ancient, intimidating and familiar stone tower looming in the distance. A sinister green glow of light could be seen at the top, which meant that Elder Gutknecht was probably home.<p>

"Alright, I'll cut you a deal," Bonejangles said as he neared the foot of the tower. "I'll wait out front for you to do whatever you need to with Gutknecht, and then I'm gonna bring you back to the Ball and Socket. You kinda skimped out on the party last night, and people are askin' questions."

"Oh, y-yes, of course," Victor replied meekly, once again embarrassed by his behaviour the previous evening.

The jazz singer folded his skeletal arms and nodded at the narrow staircase that ran all the way up the outside of the tower. "Well go on then."

Victor disembarked and made his way over the stairs. At that moment, a flash of lightning and crack of thunder boomed overhead, causing him to jump involuntarily. He paused and looked slowly up toward the top of the tower.

Finally, steeling his nerves, he pictured Victoria, and reminded himself why he was doing this. That was all the encouragement he needed to begin the climb up the tower, which would bring him to the ruler of the underworld who presided at the top.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

It has been a little while since I browsed this archive, but it's great to see people discovering this movie, and so many new stories popping up. I look forward to browsing through them.

Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback so far. I apologise for the delay in updating this story. Life has been rather busy with work, but it's not fair to keep you waiting this long for a new chapter either.


	8. Chapter 7: Elder Gutknecht

**Chapter 7: Elder Gutknecht**

* * *

><p>Lightning flashed as Victor slowly came to the top of the staircase to find himself in a large wooden room at the top. The roof of the tower, which Victor supposed had once been an impressive glass dome, was now nothing more than an iron frame, corroded away in many places. Elder Gutknecht's library, true to its name, was filled to the brim with books – large, ancient and leather-bound tomes filled shelves on the wall and were piled all over the floor.<p>

Several crows, perched on piles of books all around him and on the roof frame above him, began cawing at his arrival, causing him to jump in surprise. He composed himself, and then looked around the wood-panelled room. The elevated podium platform above him was empty.

"E-Excuse me?" he called out, looking around. "Is anyone here?"

Another bolt of lightning crackled across the dark sky, along with the accompanying _BOOM_ of thunder.

Victor was startled by a low rumbling behind him and turned toward the source of the noise. He gaped in shock as a bookshelf slowly divided into two and swung outwards, revealing a secret doorway behind it. From the room behind emerged an ancient and hunched-over skeleton, peering wearily at him through a pair of half-moon spectacles. A tangle of long strands of hair hung from skull's chin – the remnants of a beard.

"Elder Gutknecht!" he exclaimed happily.

"Hm? Who's there?" the elderly skeleton asked. He adjusted his spectacles and gazed at the young man before him. "Oh, Victor. Is that you?"

"Yes, sir. It's so good to see you again."

Gutknecht laughed as he shambled over, clasping Victor's hands in his bony ones. "Indeed! It's ever so good to see you again, my boy. So you've finally made your peace, have you?"

"W-Well, actually, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I don't belong down here. N-Not yet, anyway."

"Oh, you are still in the denial stage, I see," the skeleton replied sympathetically. "The Reaper that took you was supposed to make it clear what had happened…"

"N-No, I understand what's going on, but…" Victor paused in understanding of the selfishness of his request. However, the thought of his wife and coming child hardened his resolve. "You have to give me a second chance. Please."

"A second chance? A mistake? I'm afraid not, my boy," Elder Gutknecht replied. His leg joints creaked as he climbed a staircase (made out of books, no less), making his way up to preside at the podium platform. "You see, Victor, death is a force of nature, and an inevitable part of life, as ironic as that statement may be. It cannot be stopped, and there was no mistake. Your time has come and gone, and you need to accept that or, just like a vengeful spirit, you could well be stranded in a state of limbo forever."

"Limbo?"

"My boy, I am sure that you can grasp the fact that we are neither in heaven, nor hell. What you call the 'Land of the Dead' is but a gateway to truly what lies beyond. For you see, the people here are not yet ready to move on, for whatever reason that may be."

"So… why are _you_ here?" Victor wisely asked. "You've been… dead for a long time, haven't you? Have you been trapped here all this time?"

The old skeleton chuckled. "I am here by choice. As are many others. Although the Land of the Dead, or Limbo, is a gateway of sorts, many people have come to know it as their home. And some choose to stay, even after they conclude whatever business ties them to this place."

Victor found the news oddly comforting. He had always looked back on the Land of the Dead with fond memories – the colourfully-lit (yet decrepit) old buildings, the art, music, the friendliness. He could very well see why people chose to stay here.

But…

"Is there some way I could go upstairs? To talk to my wife at least?" Victor asked hopefully. "What about the Ukrainian Haunting Spell?"

"I am afraid that spell can only be used on a person once," Elder Gutknecht answered slowly.

"Only once?" he spluttered. "But… you used it on _everyone_ here when Emily and I wanted to move our wedding upstairs."

"That was no simple haunting spell, rather than an act of extremely advanced necromancy – and one which would be sure to cause repercussions if it was attempted again. Why, it could rupture the very balance between life and death."

The young man stood in a stunned silence.

"The dead are not supposed to enter the Land of the Living, Victor," the skeleton answered wistfully. "It is a heinous act against nature, and one which I only permitted because of how I felt about Emily's fate."

"But surely there must be _something_ you can – "

"Victor Van Dort, you continue to test my patience." At that instant, thunder boomed and lightning flashed, momentarily casting the ancient skeleton's shadow on the wall behind him, huge and intimidating.

Victor shrank back in fear, and gulped nervously.

As soon as the frightful moment came, it was gone, and Gutknecht took on a kinder tone. "I dearly apologise for your situation, my dear boy, but there is nothing I can do."

"I… I see," he replied, eyes downcast.

The elderly skeleton gazed down at him, scratching the top of his skull thoughtfully. "…But perhaps… there may be something _he_ can do…" he mused, causing Victor to look up hopefully.

"'He'?"

"The oldest, and most powerful of the Four Horsemen – Death."

A silence fell between them, during which only the whistling of the wind through the iron roof frame could be heard.

"Death?" The recently-deceased man finally spluttered out. "As in 'Death' Death?"

Elder Gutknecht cast a curious look at him.

"The Angel of Death?" he continued. "The Grim Reaper?"

"Why, who do you _think_ I am talking about?" the old skeleton said in an amused tone. "He is the master of the veil and silence, and if anyone can do anything, he will be the one to do it."

Another uncomfortable silence passed, before Victor was able to muster up the courage to ask the question gnawing at him. "Do you know… him… personally?"

"Oh, heavens, no!" Gutknecht laughed, before being abruptly interrupted by a hoarse fit of coughing. "Death has not walked among our kind for as long as anyone can remember. And it is highly unlikely that he will be seen again for a very, very long time."

"Well then how will he be able to help me?"

"He won't – not personally." His tone became grave. "But there is lore on a place known as the Valley of Death. It is an ancient tale. Limbo is seen as a condition of the afterlife – a state of being, somewhere between life and death. Not many people know of this, but the reason it is seen this way is because of the Valley of Death."

"What is so special about this place?"

"It is said to be the place where Death first entered our world, riding upon a pale horse. It is also the place where the natural lines between the Lands of the Living and Dead are blurred." His voice quietened, and his empty eye sockets scrutinised Victor thoroughly. "It is said that the Horseman left something behind – something that can help the dead to cross over once more."

"Please! Tell me how to find it!"

"You must not be so hasty, Victor. The journey to the Valley of Death is one that is fraught with danger. Not just to your body, but to your very soul. Are you sure you are ready for an undertaking of this nature?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "I am very much willing to accept my death. But I feel that it is not my time – not now. Not when I have a child on the way, and when I abandoned my family the way that I did."

Elder Gutknecht rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before sighing. "Very well then. Your soul is full of conviction. I will consult the library and found out what I can that pertains to the lore."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

><p>A little while later, Victor found himself wandering the cobblestoned streets and alleys alone, after apologetically telling Bonejangles that he needed time to think. The jazz singer begrudgingly let him go, but insisted on him coming back to the bar later on.<p>

The Valley of Death almost seemed too good to be true. If it were true that it allowed denizens of the Land of the Dead one last chance at life, why had more people not attempted to find it?

After a while, he found himself at the base of a steep, winding staircase that led to the top of a sheer brick wall. He smiled as he remembered scaling the face of this very wall, when he had been running for his life the first time he arrived in the Land of the Dead. He started to climb the staircase, making good progress. However, he paused when he realised that he could make out another sound, intermingled with the echoed footsteps of his shoes.

It was a soft humming, tinkling and beautiful, drifting down the stairs.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Victor climbed the rest of the way. At the top, he came across a large balcony, which he remembered coming to, in what felt like a past lifetime. Beyond the tangled wrought-iron railings was a breathtaking view of the metropolis of the underworld. Eerie green lights glowed in windows, and the pale moonlight shone down through a gap in the dark clouds overhead, making the scene all the more stunning.

What held his attention, however, was a pale and beautiful figure dancing on the balcony, twirling and striding gracefully in the moonlight.

Victor's breath hitched in his throat. She looked so familiar… Her singing was so familiar… But had she not moved on…?

However, when he caught a glimpse of the corpse bride's face, any shadow of doubt was immediately replaced by shocked recognition.

"Emily?"

She paused midstride, and slowly turned to face him. "…Victor? Is that you?"


	9. Chapter 8: Corpse Bride

**Chapter 8: Corpse Bride**

* * *

><p>"E-Emily!" Victor exclaimed in shock. "It <em>is<em> you!"

"Victor!" she cried happily, running forward to meet him.

The two embraced each other in a powerful hug, spinning around and revelling in the joy of seeing each other again. Although she no longer wore a veil, she was exactly as he remembered her – beautiful and with a kind face, and still dressed faithfully in her mother's tattered wedding dress.

"I-I thought I'd never see you again," Victor said. "I… I was afraid of that." Saying the words out loud made him realise how genuine they were, although it came as no surprise, considering how much Emily meant to him.

"I'm so happy to see you," she replied. Her tone suddenly quietened. "Well, not happy that you're… here, but… you know…"

The mood became sombre, and the two released each other. The young woman slowly made her way over to and sat down on a familiar worn wooden bench, patting the seat beside her gently. Victor obliged and sat down. The pair sat in an uncomfortable silence for a minute, before he spoke up.

"Emily, what are you doing here? I-I thought I had… set you free? I thought you had moved on."

She remained quiet, gazing forlornly across the jagged rooftops into the distance.

"Please," the newly-dead man pressed. "It's… important to me." He left it unsaid that the fact that he had been able to help her move on was one of the only reasons he had been able to leave her like he did.

The silence stretched on, before Emily finally took a deep breath and looked at him. "Well… when I was waiting there at the door of the chapel on our wedding night, I saw how happy you and Victoria made each other. And I made peace with the fact that, although I loved you, you were not mine."

Victor felt a twinge of guilt at her words. In the short time he had known her, she had shown herself to be a passionate, caring and selfless young woman, in both life and death.

"I waited at the chapel entrance," Emily continued, unaware of his warring thoughts. "And then… it happened." Seeing her compatriot's puzzled expression, she elaborated. "A wave of joy came over me. My spirit was finally freed from the burden that kept me trapped me in the Land of the Dead."

"So what happened?"

The wraithlike woman smiled lightly. "As I was leaving this world forever, my former life – and afterlife – flashed before my eyes." She pressed a hand to her mouth giggled daintily, and then her smile faded. "I… I also saw my father, back before I… died."

Victor felt her body stiffen and took her non-skeletal hand into her own, squeezing it reassuringly.

She smiled at the kind gesture and continued. "I realised that my purpose here wasn't finished after all, not yet. That's when I decided to stay here and wait for him… for when the time came. It's the least I could do after all that I've put him through – to make sure that the first face he sees in the Land of the Dead is a familiar one. And then…"

"Escort him across," he replied in understanding, to which Emily nodded. "You are a good daughter."

She bit her lip and looked down at his words. She remembered the huge argument she and her father had when he forbade her from getting married, and all the terrible things that she said. "If you say so..."

Another awkward silence fell between them, each remembering how much they used to enjoy the other's company.

It was Emily who addressed the elephant in the room. "How is Victoria? You two got married, right?"

"Uh, y-yes, we did," Victor stammered, caught off-guard by the question. "We've been married for a year. And she is pregnant."

"Oh, Victor, that is wonderful news!" the corpse bride chirped, her tone brightening. "How long until she is due?"

"About seven months." The young man smiled at the woman sitting beside him. "You know, if it was a girl, we had decided to name her after you. After everything you did for us, Victoria and I both made promises that you would never be forgotten."

Emily did not say anything, but the look in her eyes gave away how touched she was.

However, speaking of his wife's pregnancy rudely reminded Victor of the predicament he was in, and his mood took a decisive downturn, sorrow welling up inside him once again. "Although now I might not see either of them again."

"I see," Emily murmured beside him. "They are still alive." The pair gazed out across the underworld metropolis for a while, before she shifted uncomfortably. "If you don't mind my asking... how did you die?"

"There was a plague," he replied quietly. "It took my mother first."

"I'm so sorry," she said softly, taking his hand in her own again, her grasp soft and gentle.

The young man smiled sadly, and Emily pulled his head onto her shoulder in a show of morale support. They sat like that on the bench for a while, looking out across the dead town and taking comfort in each other's company, no words being said. It was apparent how much they had missed each other, and how happy they were to see one another again.

Victor considered telling her about the Valley of Death, but ultimately decided against it. For all he knew, the story could be a load of hogwash, and he did not want to get his hopes up too much.

A loud _POP_ drew his attention, and he turned his head toward the dead bride. To his shock, one of her eyeballs had fallen out, and a familiar ugly green maggot poked his head out of the empty eye-socket.

"Well, well, isn't this romantic?" he said with a cheeky grin.

Victor immediately lifted his head off of Emily's shoulder and the two sprang apart, their eyes widening when they realised how it must have looked.

"It-It wasn't like that – " he blabbed.

For her part, Emily simply plucked the maggot from her eye-socket and flung him away. "Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!" she scolded after him, before bending over to retrieve her dropped eyeball.

"Is he... going to be alright?" Victor asked, looking in the direction where the maggot had flown out of sight.

"Oh, sure, he'll be fine," she replied nonchalantly. "A little _too_ fine. He'll find a way back into my head at some point later."

That said, they returned their gazes to one another, their nervous expressions perfect mirrors of the other. A couple of times, both went to say something, but could not find anything suitable to say. Just as the silence was becoming unbearable, Victor tugged on his collar and twisted his cravat nervously.

"Uh, sh-shall we go for a walk?" he said as he stood up, desperate to break the dense air between them. "B-Bonjangles was exp-pecting me back at the bar..."

Emily's expression faltered for a moment, but then she smiled and took his proffered hand and climbed to her feet. He immediately withdrew his hand and started toward the stairs, but the ghost of his touch lingered on her hand, and she flexed her skeletal fingers. As much as she fondly remembered her 'marriage' to the man, Victor was married for real now. Although death had parted him from his new bride, they would be reunited eventually.

She could never have him.

A pained expression came across Emily's face at this latest train of thought, but she shook the feeling away and followed Victor down the stairs. She had let him go – to be with Victoria – and she accepted that. As much as she loved him, his heart belonged to another.

That was how it would always be.

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

I am very sorry for taking so long to update, and for the relatively short chapter. Writer's block is a pain, huh? But I'm personally quite proud of myself – I have updated all 5 stories I'm working on in the last couple of months.

A reviewer asked about Death, who was mentioned in this story. To answer your question, he is one of the Four Horsemen (they are also mentioned in 'Chapter 4: The Killing Frost').

Feel free to leave a comment, flame or whatever you wish. Thank you for your time and see you next chapter!


	10. Chapter 9: Cause and Effect

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I am so sorry for the long wait between this chapter and the last. For the last few months, my writing was focused on my other fanfiction stories, while I was waiting for that spark of inspiration for this story to come back. Sure enough, it did. Hooray for electricity.

Thank you to everyone for your reviews and kind words. They are always appreciated.

This chapter is a bit of an emotional and drama-filled one. Consider it my way of saying sorry for the long delay.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: Cause and Effect<strong>

The moon hung in the sky above the dead town, the twisted buildings looming above the streets and frenzied citizens. The newly-deads made their way down the street toward the Ball and Socket bar, Victor doing his best to ignore the stares he was getting. Other passersby on the street, or vendors by the side of the cobblestone road, would often shoot looks at him and Emily, having obviously remembered what had happened between them a year ago.

The young man felt slightly embarrassed and uneasy about his fame in the Land of the Dead. Emily, however, was no stranger to receiving looks – her sad story was quite well-known throughout the town. Thankfully though, no one came up to badger them with questions and respected their privacy.

The two kept a reasonable distance from each other, not wanting to give anyone the wrong idea. Victor was a married man, after all. A rather uncomfortable silence had stretched on between them ever since they had left the balcony above the city, and neither of them knew what to say to each other.

Scores of jazz music could be heard drifting through the air as the pair entered the bar, the rickety wooden sign swinging above their heads. The scene inside the pub was as raucous and lively as ever, as cadavers and spectres drifted here and there, engaging in conversation, playing pool or tossing back drinks.

The din of conversation dulled quite suddenly, and as he made his way down the entry stairs, Victor was painfully aware of the many pairs of eyes and eye-sockets directed toward him and Emily. Some began to whisper, which only served to add to his discomfort.

"Hello Emily and Victor!" the hoarse voice of Mrs Plum rang out as she crossed the floor, shoving other patrons aside.

"Mrs Plum," the young man in question greeted. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened last night – "

"It's about time you two found your way here!" a loud voice came from the stage, interrupting them. They looked to see Bonejangles making his way across the tavern toward them, a wide grin on his face. "What say we get this party started, eh?" He lifted a pair of bony fingers to his mouth and whistled for the attention of the head waiter. "Hey, Frenchy! A wine for the pale beauty, and a whisky for me and Victor!"

"Oh, no no no, I don't need one," he stammered.

"Oh, very well," the skeleton said slyly, before looking back toward the bar. "Paul, make it two for Victor then!"

Before he could protest, he felt a bony hand grabbing his own in a firm handshake. "Mr Van Dort," the tall maroon-suited skeleton greeted, before taking Emily's skeletal hand and planting a soft kiss upon it. "And Emily, my dear. You are looking as radiant as ever."

She smiled. "And you are as eloquent as ever, Alfred."

"It's good to see you two found each other again." He nodded at Victor. "I was about to tell you that she had chosen to stay behind, but you departed rather abruptly last night. Is everything alright?"

The look on Mrs Plum's face mirrored the concern.

"Oh, y-yes, quite," he said, uncomfortably twisting his cravat. "I'm terribly sorry about that, I was just – "

"Ah, don't sweat it. You're not the first one to freak out about being dead," Bonejangles put, rather unceremoniously, as he returned from the bar and handed everyone their drinks. "Why, your little performance last night won me a fair few drinks!"

"You take bets on this kind of thing?" Emily asked, frowning in disapproval.

"All in good fun," he said, his single eye widening slightly. "Anyway, now that you two lovebirds are back together – "

Victor choked on his whiskey. "What?! No, it's n-not like that – " he began, but Emily beat him to the punch.

"Victor is married, but his wife is still alive," she explained, her voice reserved and neutral.

"Oh, I see," Mrs Plum said quietly. "Is it that woman who was at your wedding? The one who was hiding behind the pillar?"

Emily pursed her lips and said nothing.

The jazz singer, however, seemed to be quite put out by the news. He turned toward Victor. "Ah, yes, that wispy little bird. I sure hope she was worth breaking Emily's heart yet again – "

"Bonejangles, that's enough!" she said sharply.

A beat passed, and then the skeleton tipped his bowler hat and sauntered off. "You kids have fun. I gotta go backstage and make sure the band's ready. We're performing in a bit."

"...Well, congratulations on your marriage," Mrs Plum said awkwardly.

Victor nodded politely, and no more words were exchanged for a moment. Not knowing how he could break the awkward situation, he took a sip of his whiskey and nearly choked in the process. The stuff really did taste ghastly.

"Victor!" came a hoarse and gravelly voice.

The young man turned and a wide smile broke out on his face when he saw a plump and hunched-over man, with a pear-shaped face and small black top-hat, approaching them. "Mayhew!" he exclaimed happily.

The blue-tinged man clasped his hand, and then pulled the pipe out of his mouth and gave Mrs Plum a long and gob-smacking kiss that left everyone else present feeling rather awkward. At least now Victor knew who her husband was.

"It's good to see you again," Mayhew said to his old master when the kiss finally ended. "And, uh... sorry... about you being dead and all..."

"That is of no consequence," Alfred piped up. "Everyone is together now, and that's what matters."

The two youngest members of the group straightened at the skeleton's words. He was right. Despite all the odds, they had found each other again. Their friendship had endured, even through life and death.

Victor spared a glance at Emily as she sipped her wine. She noticed him looking at her, and smiled softly back.

* * *

><p>Later on, the streets of the Land of the Dead were silent, its denizens having retired for the evening. Aside from idle passersby, the only sounds to be heard were the footsteps of Victor's dress shoes and Emily's heels.<p>

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Back to my place," came the reply. "I have something I want to show you."

Red flags went up in Victor's head at those words, but he immediately dismissed them. Emily was not that kind of girl.

He followed her through the cobblestoned laneways, and eventually came to a rotten wooden door at the base of one of the decrepit old buildings that towered overhead. Emily eased the door open, its hinges creaking. It appeared that no one saw the need to lock their doors in the Land of the Dead.

Victor took a look around Emily's home. It seemed quite simple – a rather cozy space with a worn sofa against one wall, and a small table with a wrought-iron stand in the centre, which bore a single candle. The flickering flame cast the room in a dim light. There was a small bookcase in one corner, laden with several leather-bound tomes. Victor recognised one of them as a collection of Shakespearean plays. Victoria owned the same volume.

The thought of her brought a pang to the young man's heart.

There was only one other door, which he guessed led to the bedroom. It appeared that, in the Land of the Dead, there were no parlours, or dining halls, or lavish and petty rooms that served no purpose other than to make a house larger and emptier than it needed to be.

"I know it's not much, but it's home," Emily said, noticing him looking around.

He blushed slightly. "I-I think it's v-very nice…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "So, what did you want to show me…?"

At that moment, a familiar, high-pitched yipping came from the bedroom, and a small skeletal dog came bounding out of the darkness, wearing a familiar red collar. The dog's barking became louder and more enthusiastic when it saw its master.

"Scraps!" Victor cried out in joy, kneeling down and petting the dog's tiny skull. "Who's a good boy?"

The dog yipped as he ran circles around him, responding to such commands as "sit", "roll over" and "shake" (although he still refused to "play dead").

Emily giggled, a gloved hand pressed to her mouth, as she watched the man she used to love reunited with his best friend. "After I came back to the Land of the Dead after our… wedding…" An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and she pressed on, eager to change the subject. "After I came back, I found Scraps sitting outside the Ball and Socket bar, waiting for you, no doubt."

"That sounds like him, alright," Victor smiled.

"So I took him in. I wanted to make sure he had an owner – until you arrived here, at least."

The man's smiled faded. "Yes… I guess none of us were expecting me to get here so soon."

The young woman looked on sympathetically. "Well, you're here now, and I hope that Scraps can at least make this place feel more like home to you." When Victor did not answer, the failed bride frowned. "You know, death isn't the end of the world. It happens to us all."

"I know, and I feel incredibly selfish thinking this, but… I barely lived, you know? I was only married for a year, and now I won't even get to meet my own child."

Emily did not realise she was crying until she felt the tears falling down her face. "At least you had the chance to experience something…" she murmured. She was angry – at life, for handing her such a cruel fate. At Victor, for lamenting loss to her, when she had not had the chance to experience what he had.

But most of all, she was angry at herself. That night at the chapel, when she had given up her love, she thought she had gotten past such trivial matters, and was ready to move on. But listening to him lament on his life and joys stirred up feelings within her that she was having trouble comprehending.

Perhaps she still deserved to be bound to the Land of the Dead.

Victor was taken aback when he looked up and saw her tears. "Oh, E-Emily, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, scrambling to his feet. "I-I didn't mean – "

"At least you got to experience marriage, and the joy of building a life with someone you love!" she continued, her voice growing steadily growing louder. "You've left a legacy in the world, Victor, and it lives on through Victoria, and the child she will bear." The young woman jabbed a thumb at herself bitterly. "What have _I_ left behind? Nothing but a memory of foolishness and recklessness, and a father who does not know how sorry I am!"

In the wake of her shouting, the silence that filled the room was as thick and heavy as mud. Victor stood there awkwardly as Emily dabbed at her wet, swollen eyes.

"Emily, I…"

"I think you should go," she said sharply.

"But – "

"Please… I need some time. Just leave me be."

The pale woman swept her tattered wedding dress behind her and disappeared into the bedroom, the door clicking closed behind her. Victor stood there in the middle of the dim room, unsure of what to do. Scraps whined uncertainly.

"Come on, boy," he said, turning. "Let's go."

For the second time in two nights, Victor found himself wandering aimlessly through the streets of the Land of the Dead, although, this time, he was trailed by the skeletal figure of his faithful dog. Why, oh why, had he been so stupid? Emily had been nothing but kind and caring since their reunion, and what had he done for her in return?

The troubled young man found himself trudging through a narrow alleyway lined with old wooden coffins. He sat down absently on the edge of one, gazing up through the twisting spires above him and into the dark sky.

Emily.

His best friend.

She truly was one of a kind. An amazing and talented woman. An all-round good and loving person, no matter how much trouble those qualities kept getting her into. Any man would have been lucky to have her.

_But you already did, and yet you turned her down and broke her heart,_ a voice in the back of his mind said, only adding to his guilt.

"Oh, Scraps," he said softly. "Whatever am I to do?"

The dog whined softly, having no answer to give.


	11. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

First of all, I apologise to those of you who have been waiting for updates to my stories. Having not updated any of my stories since March last year, I think I owe some explanations.

I was once extremely active on this site. While I still read fanfiction, my writing has been left by the wayside. This is due to my medical issues, and the fact that I am working nearly full-time. However, it is mostly due to my discovery of Source Filmmaker, an amazing program on Steam. As much as I love reading and writing, movies are where my true passion in storytelling lies, and making them is where I have been spending much of my free time.

However, I hate starting projects and never finishing them. It is not fair to my readers, who follow the story, or to myself, who put in all those hours of writing and editing. I am very passionate about my stories, and do plan to continue updating them. However, I am afraid that I will not be updating very frequently – it will be rather infrequent, to be perfectly honest.

I am sorry, but I thank you all for your support. If you are interested in checking out my movies, there is a link to my Youtube channel on my profile.


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